Sonia Hadj Said
You have a tough job to do. There are forty, thirty, twenty – something women waiting for a film that they will love. I mean, they need to love it or you’re done for life.
First of all, you simply do not kill Mr Darcy. If literature decided to go on a suicide mission of pissing off millions of women worldwide, that’s okay. Thankfully, cinema is out there to make us happy. That already makes things easy. Just let him live, because if you don’t, all hope is lost. And a film mustn’t do that. So, step one, Mr Darcy is alive. Let’s move on.
It’s been twelve years since the last film. Some things have changed so you have to take that under consideration. Bridget gets a good job, I think that’s real enough. I mean, there are people out there with good jobs, might as well be her. She’s still at the same apartment as she must. All Londoners know the prices, and living in a flat on your own in Borough Market is a miracle and only possible if you’ve already been there for the past decade and simply bought it before only the Queen herself would be able to afford it.
A love triangle, as always. Almost like a tradition. Remind women that their crazy, hopeless, unrealistic, funny, adorable, clumsy selves make them attractive and real. Kill Cleaver, since Hugh Grant didn’t like your idea. Just send a message: you screwed us up because who else is supposed to compete with Mr Darcy? Ok, you’re going to throw in an American, go-green billionaire. That’s unrealistic. Honestly, she can’t be that lucky. Fine, it’s just a film.
Now, drop a bomb. Forty, thirty and twenty – something women will all love it. Genius.
You need to show millennials and how everyone – including millennials – hates them. Give Bridget a smart, ambitious, younger than her boss. Put in a few guys with beards. Just ignorant kids speaking a language that no one understands. Make a joke. Bridget will say something hashtag related and they will want to clap their hands. Give her a tablet and make her write “0” (zero) instead of “o”, because tablets really suck and we should all go back to traditional diaries.
Make all her friends have kids and husbands and suggest that not everyone actually does have kids and husbands at this age. Send her to a music festival and have her completely ignore Ed Sheeran, because, just maybe, she doesn’t feel the need to follow modern artists that much.
A bit of reality check, then. Remind women why things didn’t work out between Bridget and Mark, but make them think that love might just be stronger. Give a big middle finger to online dating and algorithms and make the audience want to punch the fuck out of Jack and his positive energy. It’s England after all. We like it sarcastic, thank you very much.
Don’t make her a bloody feminist who will decide to have a child on her own. Seriously, bugger off. Anyway, you know already there is only one possible ending women will accept. But it’s okay, you see. It means the forty, thirty, twenty – something women still believe in Mr Darcy. A love not perfect, but so, so real.
Wait for your 4 star reviews. Critics don’t give 5 stars, they would lose their reputation. But here: Bridget Jones’s Baby *****
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